


Boxing Day

by djinnj



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Gen, Post Season 2, dog POV, minor OCs - Freeform, this dog is not Max
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 10:35:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8098840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/djinnj/pseuds/djinnj
Summary: When there's a dog in a story, you have to be clear about what happens to the dog.Does this count as a fix-it? I don't know, but I object to the absence of dog clarity in Season 2. So, this is my take on a certain canon canine character.





	1. A Dog and a Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dog's pov.

The faint sound of footsteps approaching the door caused her to prick up her ears. The small one in the next kennel heard it too and jumped up, yipping a little. That set off the other small ones and the entire room soon echoed with yapping and barking until the footsteps were completely drowned out. She sighed a little, still sore enough to find distant footsteps unworthy of standing. It was not time for food or play and it had been quiet for days, with few new visitors. 

In truth, she was bored and sad that her good friend was gone. It was tiring having to posture at all the other ones here to make sure they knew she was strong and that they should keep their proper place. But bars meant she did not have to fight them, and she was glad for that even if she could not let it show. Her leg was still tender and she would rather rest, if only it were not so dull. 

The loud clatter of the press bar on the door brought her head up, however. Someone was really coming! 

_We don't get many people this time of year so they can be rambunctious. Day after Christmas is usually pretty dead. Watch your step… uh, right, there's a lip on the floor, a few inches high… keeps the water in when we wash down the runs._

The air current smelled of the outer space that she walked through sometimes, and the newer friend who had fed her and walked her that morning. She liked her; she always stayed and scratched her belly and pulled on her ears for a little while. There was someone new with her, though there was something familiar about the scent. Something familiar, she was sure she knew that person's smell. It was not her good friend, but it reminded her of happier times and her tail started to thump against the floor.

_Thank you. I, uh, see what you mean. They're pretty loud._

_Yeah, I try to give them extra attention but it's never really enough. So, the one you’re asking about, they told you out front that she's no good with other dogs, right? We’re pretty sure she was part of a dogfighting ring._

_Yes, so they said. That won't be a problem._

_Here she is. We’ve been calling her ‘Bea’, you know, for ‘Beatrice?’ She’s a sweetheart with people, a total pushover. Hi, Bea! Who’s a good girl?_

They stopped in front of her kennel and she absolutely knew that person's smell. She stood as quickly as her casted leg allowed and limped to the gate, pushing her nose against the bars and whining a little until he reached his hand towards her. She was just able to flick his fingers with her tongue and he pressed them forward until she could reach them properly. Her tail moved so emphatically it shook her whole body.

_Oh, she likes you! Well, she likes everybody but she really likes you! Would you like to meet her properly?_

Her newer friend put her hand on the latch and she knew what that meant. She wiggle-hopped back out of the way as they both came into her kennel, her newer friend slipping a lead over her head. 

She sniffed the familiar one’s shoes and the long stick in his hand curiously. She remembered him being friendly and he was holding it close to his body like it was important. She thought it looked too thin to be much fun, but if he wanted to play with a stick, she was game. Instead, he crouched down and offered his hand again, gently stroking her head when she nuzzled into of his palm.

_Hello, Beatrice._

_She likes it when you pull on her ears a little._

His hand slipped up to cup around her head and he slowly pulled her ear through his fingers. It was not quite firm enough, but she groaned encouragingly and he did it again more strongly. Very satisfied with this development, she groaned again and flopped slowly over onto his feet, pushing her head into his hand. She was even more pleased when he took his other hand off his stick, leaving it caught between his knees and propped against his shoulder, so he could rub her head and ears with both hands.

_I said she was a pushover, didn't I?_

_You did, although I didn't expect it to be so literal. They said out front that she was recovering from an injury…?_

_Yeah, she was impounded by the police as evidence for some case. She came in with a bullet graze and a broken leg, left rear. The graze is healed up although her fur hasn't grown back yet. She’s due to get her cast off in another two weeks._

_Can you show me…?_

_Oh, right! Yeah, uh, here, if you run your hand along here you can feel where the fur was shaved and the scar. She won't nip, she’s always been really good for us and it’s not sore or itchy. It should grow back OK, although it will probably always show a little since her coat isn’t super thick._

Her newer friend placed the familiar one’s hand on her shoulder where the fur was thin and stroked downward. Her skin twitched where his fingers tickled against the sensitive gnarl of skin and she sighed gustily, shifting against his toes. His warm fingers did not stay on her shoulder, however. They slowly slid down toward her flank, firm but careful, and she thumped her tail against the floor.

_Left rear, you said? I live in a walk up; how bad will that be for her?_

_Oh, that's not great. She’s mostly healed, but stairs are hard. She won’t like it, but you can use wee pads in the apartment so you don't have to lug her up and down constantly. We have some here; we can set you up._

He stood and she rolled slowly to her feet. This usually meant they would leave her again and while she was used to it, she did not exactly enjoy it. She whined softly as they opened the gate. But her newer friend did not drop the lead.

_Come on, Bea, you're going to your new home!_

She gave a tentative bounce and wiggle as she joined them outside her kennel. When the familiar one dropped a hand to his thigh and patted it, she went right up to him and leaned against his leg, tail wagging hard enough to shake him, too.

_It makes it all worth it, doesn't it?_

_What does?_

_The unconditional love. Dogs are so awesome and pit bulls get a bad rap. This sweet girl deserves better, don't you, sweetheart?_

_Yeah, yes, she does._


	2. A Boy and A Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt's pov.

Matt listened as he stalled by petting Bea’s ears. The cab had deposited them right in front of his building, and he now had a bulky but light package of ‘wee’ pads and fifty pounds of dog to get up the stairs. It seemed he was in luck, however, and the stairs sounded clear. 

“Come on, Bea.” He attempted a gesture one of the people at the shelter had tried to teach him. She responded to an eclectic mixture of hand and voice commands, although there were a few that they had not tested and emphatically suggested he never use with her in the presence of other dogs. He did not think he managed this innocuous one quite right, but she kept pace with him anyway as they maneuvered through the door. 

Once inside, he set the bag of pads off to the side where the mail carrier would leave packages and squatted down, considering.

“It’s a long way up. You promise not to wiggle too much and I promise not to drop you.” She whuffed at him and flicked her tongue at his nose. He grimaced at the dog breath before reaching slowly around her chest and hindquarters, and pulled her into a firm grip. Lifting carefully, he listened again to make sure the way was clear before he started up the first flight.

She was very well behaved, only tipping her head back to snuffle at his hairline as he rounded another landing. By the third floor she started to get impatient, however, and he decided to give them both a break on the next landing.

She shook herself from head to toe when he set her down, her cast rattling against the floor in counterpoint. He sat on the stairs as she sniffed every corner, going back to the one where someone’s cat had sat for a while last week (the heavily perfumed litter smell told him it was a resident cat and not a stray that had somehow made its way in). Satisfied, she settled in front of him. He could hear her panting and smacking her lips a little as she faced him, sending little gusts of dog breath his way. 

“First thing we’re doing after we get you settled, is thorough research into doggie toothbrushes.” He told her solemnly. He heard her collar clink as she tilted her head, and he reached out to rub her head. He smiled as she melted under his hands and set her muzzle on his knee. The smile lingered through a door opening and closing and approaching footsteps. Apartment 4C, faint cigarette smoke and strong air fresheners, Mrs De la Guardia.

“Oh, hello!” she said, stopping on the step above Matt. “Are you alright?”

“We’re fine, thanks.” He tried to inject his voice with as much sincerity as possible and hoping his smile followed suit. “Just taking a break before we head the rest of the way up. The stairs are bad for her leg.” He patted Bea’s side to draw attention to the cast.

“Poor thing. Well, have a good day!” she said before heading down. He sent his reply down after her and waited until she rounded the stairs before he stood. 

“Let’s go, Bea. We’re blocking traffic.” He picked her up again and they took the last flights of stairs briskly. 

Once inside his apartment, he unclipped the leash and sketched a gesture with his hand. “Go ahead.” He hung the leash on a coat hook and went to wash his hands. Her toenails and cast clicked against the floor as she explored, thrusting her nose into all the nooks and crannies and giving all the surfaces a good, long sniff. She stood for a moment at the foot of the stairs to the roof, her forefeet on the bottom step, before apparently thinking better of it and exploring the bedroom instead. 

He was sipping a glass of water and leaning against the kitchen bar counter when she returned and sat down at his feet, leaning against his leg. He dropped his hand to her head and tugged on her ears for a little while, before taking up the two bowls he had filled while she was exploring. 

“When you get out of the cast, I’ll show you the roof. Until then, you’re stuck with just me,” he said as he knelt to put the bowls down. The floor was cold against his knee as he rested there as she drank some water and sniffed at the small portion of food before eating it in two comprehensive bites. He petted her side and resolved to order a dog bed and some enrichment toys, too. Until then, there was a blanket he could put down for her.

“So, this is home, Bea.”

**Author's Note:**

> I had grand plans of actually implying loads of Matt Murdock related things in this story, but that didn't happen. So, instead, here's a Proustian day in the life of a dog and a boy, and then a boy and a dog. 
> 
> I decided that the dog in the show was not Frank's Max, but rather a nod toward Max. So this is emphatically a different dog, whom I've named "Bea" because Matt needs some joy in his life. And in completely unnecessary details that aren't actually spelled out in the fic, Bea was at the Manhattan Animal Care Center of NYC. I've never been inside, though, so I can't say if my description is accurate. Also, Bea is an excellent excuse for Matt not to take the subway, since animals need to be enclosed in a carrier for the subway. No matter how many hilarious pictures of big dogs in giant tote bags there are, this is not the kind of attention Matt wants to attract.


End file.
